


Salutations

by Whrain



Series: A peculiar correspondence [2]
Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: M/M, Napoleon is up to something, One shall no fall in love with the most honorable man of Britain, ohh Laurence you have no idea what's coming for you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:34:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23134729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whrain/pseuds/Whrain
Summary: Napoleon receives Laurence answering letter. He is pleased. But that will just not do.
Relationships: Napoleon Bonaparte/William Laurence
Series: A peculiar correspondence [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1651081
Comments: 5
Kudos: 80





	Salutations

**Author's Note:**

> Continuing to spam the Laurence/Napoleon tag because I'm a sucker for Napoleon being utterly obsessed with the one British aviator to whom self-preservation is an alien concept.

_I hope your word holds true and this letter will reach you in continued good health, even though, you may forgive my saying, with a few blows to your already spectacular pride._

_Respectfully Yours etc._

_Captain William Laurence_

Napoleon scoffed at those closing words, finding himself both endeared and therefore very annoyed by the feeling tingling throughout his body. Had any other man suffered the insolence to address him in such an offensive and over all stiff-necked manner, which didn’t even offer the excuse of friendship to soften the blow, he certainly would have seen to that man’s swift punishment. As the words had been delivered by Laurence’s lovely but somewhat quite pedantic hand, he felt his lips twitch in amusement rather than anger.

He knew himself to look an utter fool, staring at a letter clearly marred by the long journey around half the globe as if the page boy who had left it on his table, had instead delivered a sunken treasure.

When he had entered, finding the missive placed unceremoniously upon a stack of letters of state he had been outraged, a childish notion. But regarding William Laurence all his notions were quite ungoverned.

He remembered hearing the name for the first time, being repulsed by the knowledge that his priceless Celestial had fallen into the hands of not only the British, but a lowly Navy captain aided by sheer dumb luck.

He had despised the man and loathed him, when the first reports had arrived on his desk, not unlike the letter he cherished so.

The short observation of his exploited royalist spy had not only told him about the general life the British aviators led but also left no doubt that the dragon, _Temeraire,_ had taken quite the liking to his new handler, who was described as an honourable and reliable man, which was an impressive praise coming from a French spy.

Napoleon had ignored it, wrote it of as evidence of the royalist’s mislead spirits.

Then the Chinese had entered the game and upon the return of his emissary’s unfortunate nephew he had received another blow on his pride.

Captain Laurence had treated his men honourably, the man who had ruined his campaign, had the gall to spare his own aviators and proof himself everything, but the butcher Napoleon had tried to make of him.

He had found himself reading de Guignes reports, regarding the Chinese court, with newfound interest and even though Lien’s hatred played well into his own cards he, at this point, had lost the ability to hate the man she detested with such vehemence. 

Oh and how he had marvelled when his dragons had succumbed to sickness and the very man who had stolen his dragon, just delivered himself and the cure into his hands.

He had left him waiting eager to learn everything about him. Finding all the little things, he could use as leverage, his Celestial might have been lost to him, he had won another but there was no reason he could not force man and dragon to stay, maybe even bend them to obedience.

It was quite an impressive account, stealing a Celestial, defending England from an unprecedented aerial attack, traveling to China and returning as a prince, stealing another dragon, a Kazilik egg from right under the Turk’s noses, resisting his conquering troops in Prussia and not only successfully finding a cure for the dragon sickness but somehow conveniently allying his findings with a revolution of the whole African continent.

Napoleon _had_ been impressed, made even more eager to break the man, make him amenable for his suggestions.

But then, oh then he had met him. No, he had just seen him.

A lonely figure standing beside a mighty black dragon, eyes set in a grim line as if he wasn’t awaiting his only means of salvation but rather the noose already wrapped around his neck, fastened by his own countrymen.

Napoleon had seen no despise in those ocean blue eyes, no friendliness either but whatever prejudice Laurence held, it wasn’t personal. Laurence did not begrudge Napoleon; he begrudged the actions of the French emperor.

When realisation hit, he had thrown all his plans of enforcing his superiority ahoo, embracing the man as if he was a long-lost friend, finding himself extraordinarily pleased by Laurence baffled reaction. His delight had only increased when he noticed Laurence peculiar reaction to praise. As if the man had never experienced genuine gratitude.

Now he was of half a mind to bestow him with honours aplenty, just for the joy of knowing Laurence utterly incomprehensible. 

_More so I would welcome an explanation to the sudden opening of correspondence and once more beg to forborne further words of praise._

There was a man meant to lead, pounded into submission and Napoleon found himself glad to have forgone a repetition of that mistake. For he was quite sure he could have broken Laurence apart. England had done a great deal of the groundwork required, he could have had Laurence and with him Temeraire during their first and so far, only meeting but what he would have gained was nothing compared to what he had set out to conquer now.

Lifting his quill, he wrote the by now familiar salutation. After all he had sketched that first letter a ridiculous amount of times.

_My dearest William,_

_I receive your well-wishes with gratitude and count myself even more lucky to be assured of your continued health._

_I hope you have conveyed my greetings to Temeraire and knowing the two of you, he might soften you into the idea of the more than profitable companionship I offer._

_However I must confess that said offer has appropriated a great deal of my mind, which ought to be set on such minor things as conquering Europe. In this regard I fear I must disappoint, for I have no intentions of allowing a single blow to pierce my pride._

_You can’t imagine how it galls me that you are occupying such a great portion of my mind, making me feel like a lovesick maiden longing for her old flame lost at sea._

_I am sure by now even my Marshals are catching on, I should not be surprised if one gets it into his head to deliver you nicely wrapped with a bright red bow, if it gets me back on track. I suppose you could consider this a fair warning but you and Temeraire have proven quite elusive of a variety of traps laid out for you._

Here he paused considering what was written before him. It was a considerably bold approach compared to his first letter, which had only hinted on what had driven him to write in the first place. Thinking about it, he supposed that the change of tactics was spurt by a subconscious feeling of disappointment. It was magnificent enough that Laurence had answered at all. Napoleon had been prepared to write half a dozen letters, only to receive a brisk request to cease the correspondence. He had thought himself content with such an outcome. Believing that once properly rebuffed he would be able to redirect his thoughts. Laurence answer had the opposite effect.

The words seemed brisk and Napoleon found himself too easily ridden off as a minor annoyance as if the answer had been drafted for properties sake.

Knowing Laurence, it was not even possible but highly likely.

It would not do.

But how did one woe a man who resented him? And farther more how to go about the task without forcing Laurence to resent himself even more?

Napoleon had no difficulty to imagine Laurence current state of mind. Such a man was not supposed to be idle, especially not with the false impression of being a traitor, for doing the one right thing.

If he had not had every intention of conquering Britain before the whole disastrous dragon plague affair, he certainly would have found every reason to squash those arrogant _baiseurs_ now.

Which still offered no answer, to the continued question of his opening salve which would initiate his courtship.

Looking around his office, his eyes grazed maps and stacks of written orders. Though Napoleon imagined that Laurence would have enjoyed a detailed insight into his plans, maybe even appreciated them, they were far from, what Napoleon considered a proper courting gift.

He was ranking his mind, finding it though, wholly occupied with the man, completely blank towards his preferences. It would have been easy enough if he knew what wine Laurence preferred or what literature he or rather Temeraire might have enjoyed.

Napoleon had gained the impression that most aviators hearts were gained through their dragons, which must hold especially true for a man who had gone to such lengths to proof his trust into his own beast’s judgement.

It had been a damn untimely thing when they had learned that Britain’s dragon militia had been granted payment and rank, but the image of Laurence haggling for appropriate salaries to satisfy the needs of multi-ton creatures was still amusing.

Napoleons gaze fell onto the wooden model of a school, which he had given into construction, it was a neat little thing. Lovely to look at and quite accurate, compared to the actual building which was slowly taking shape in the outskirts of the city.

Napoleon found himself smiling, pushing to his feet with newfound energy, leaving the letter unfinished. For now. He had to find the man responsible for the model and, more importantly, have someone summon the shipwright. 


End file.
